


From the Ashes, Hope Will Rise

by asaloki (orphan_account)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 15:16:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/asaloki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><div>
  <p>He could taste the ash on his tongue; he could feel the crawling heat upon his ageing skin… He could feel the sorcerer all around him, lingering even in his untimely death… He could hear the whisper of an accusation that all but roared in his ears. It made his stomach lurch, even as he remained outwardly impassive. “And let this be a lesson,” he said calmly, turning from Arthur. “There is no home for those who practice magic in Camelot and there never will be.”</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	From the Ashes, Hope Will Rise

**Author's Note:**

> First drabble!fic for Merlin. It's implied Merthur but could be seen as bromance / familial love. Major character death is mentioned but it's not explicit and I wouldn't refer to it as being angsty. Mostly following Uther's (not exactly sane) POV :)

∞

“Please,” Arthur implored, beseeched, begged. “Father, please. He has caused no harm.”

Uther’s face contorted into something twisted – something hideous and pained. He turned to his beloved son and cupped his face with his hands, reason passing between them in the silence. His plea was silent but a plea nonetheless, an unspoken request for Arthur to understand that everything he was doing, he did for his sake... Slowly, Uther’s lips formed words and the words formed an instruction, an order that could not be denied or misunderstood: “Burn the sorcerer.”  


He never looked at the pyre but Uther could see the flames reflected in Arthur’s eyes, hear the screaming behind his unbroken composure… He could taste the ash on his tongue; he could feel the crawling heat upon his ageing skin… He could feel the sorcerer all around him, lingering even in his untimely death… He could hear the whisper of an accusation that all but roared in his ears. It made his stomach lurch, even as he remained outwardly impassive. “And let this be a lesson,” he said calmly, turning from Arthur. “There is no home for those who practice magic in Camelot and there never will be.”  


Uther pretended not to hear when Arthur whispered, “Merlin,” and promised that things would change once he was named king.


End file.
